


the rain's gonna wash away (i believe it)

by Athereal



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: F/M, Romance, Slow Dancing, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athereal/pseuds/Athereal
Summary: He comes back to Miami twelve years older, a world of secrets and stories on his back, packed up neatly in the bags under his eyes.And it's easier.
Relationships: Calleigh Duquesne/Jesse Cardoza
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	the rain's gonna wash away (i believe it)

**Author's Note:**

> Set near the beginning of season 8. A million thanks to my friend and beta enbyboiwonder for all the help. ♥️

It's easier with Jesse, she tells herself. Less complicated history.

(But that's not quite true either. Their history is loaded with the potential for  _ complicated.) _

He comes back to Miami twelve years older, a world of secrets and stories on his back, packed up neatly in the bags under his eyes. But his smile is the same. All that warm, positive regard shining on her face like sunshine.

And it's easy, even with all those years and all that weight they're both carrying, to fall back into the easy banter that so charmed her when she was twenty-three, shiny and new like a copper penny. 

He takes her for drinks his eighth day back, and she knows she should feel...  _ something _ when she turns off her phone for the evening. Something sharp and gnawing. But all she feels is overwhelming relief.

He takes her to a little jazz bar he used to know, and he buys her a scotch. They drink it in the beer garden out back, twinkling strings of bulbs slung from the trellis and the trees overhead. It's a warm Miami night, and she can smell trees and earth, and just a hint of Jesse's cologne when the breeze blows right. Music spills from the wide-thrown patio doors, slow and easy.

They talk about her cat, about the dog he buried in L.A., about their silliest cases, how Miami has changed, how it hasn't.

Her second scotch is low and warm in her belly by the time he takes her hand and brings her out to dance. She can feel tingling in her fingertips as they sway. Jesse's hand is hot on her hip, his other wrapped around her own. 

When he kisses her, it should be surprising. 

It's not. 

He doesn't cradle her head the way Eric does, doesn't try to dominate like Jake. Just an easy press of warm lips, his forehead bumping against hers, still swaying with their dance. He pulls back before she's quite ready, and spins her out. She goes obligingly, and when he pulls her back in, she ends up with her back to his chest. He loops an arm around her middle, and when he presses a kiss into her neck, she feels warm and feminine and  _ wanted, _ and it's so easy.

\---

She doesn't turn her phone back on until the morning, scooping it off of Jesse's bedside table. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging his boots on. He's shirtless, and the broad expanse of his bare back draws her eyes as the phone vibrates to life in her hand.

"Hey," she says, propped up on her elbows, the sheet slipping down her naked breasts, and he twists around to see her. She offers an unabashed smile, which he returns.

"Hey," he says, standing to grab a shirt from his closet. "Shower's yours if you want it. I've got coffee on."

She nods as she's sitting up. She watches him button his shirt over the necklace he's wearing, a gold ring on a silver chain, and she doesn't ask.

There are four new texts and a voicemail for her. They're all from Eric.

5:43 pm  _ Want to get dinner? _

6:30 pm  _ I'm off work, going to B's if you want to meet up _

7:56 pm  _ Cal? _

8:03 pm  _ Missed call from Eric Delko _

8:06 pm  _ Give me a call when you can. See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams _

She deletes the voicemail without listening to it, and takes a quick shower. She'll stop by her place on the way to change and do her hair. She braids it neatly over her shoulder to keep it out of the way in the meantime.

Jesse gives her a small smile and a cup of coffee in a to-go mug. 

They don't talk about it. 

There's nothing to talk about. 

\---

Eric stares at her, wounded, all day. But she ignores him. (She's supposed to feel guilty.)

(She doesn't.)

Eric leaves CSI, leaves  _ her _ , and it's supposed to hurt and it  _ does. _ It feels like being shot, hot and jagged and sharp and painful.  _ I trust you with every fiber of my being. _

She goes to Jesse's place after work and they drink beer on his patio. She doesn't ask about the woman in the pictures on his desk, just studies the little patch of skin she can see when he's got a few of the buttons of his collar undone.

His hair is a little windswept by the time they head in, and she can't stop herself from reaching up, fixing it. 

He kisses her, hot and urgent, puts her on his cool sheets and makes them forget, for a little while. When he comes, he doesn't say her name, his face buried in her neck, hand clutching her hipbone so tight it'll bruise.

And she thinks,  _ I could trust this man. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
